


Trapped

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Actually all the Knights do, Blood and Violence, Canon Era, Deaf Character, Druid speak, F/F, Good Morgana (Merlin), Gwaine Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Merlin & Morgana Friendship (Merlin), Muteness, Pining Merlin (Merlin), Protective Arthur, Torture, temporarily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24160816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Merlin's fallen into Morgause's hands, and she isn't too happy that he convinced Morgana to stay in Camelot
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Morgana (Merlin)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 369
Collections: Best of Hurt/Comfort





	1. Pain

‘You stole my sister.’ Honestly, Merlin had never intended to be in a position when this statement resulted in pain. A lot of it, as well, if the pounding in his head was anything to go by.

‘I gave her a choice.’ Merlin tried, even if he knew it wouldn’t work, and the pain came back. Agonising, he’d never been tortured with Magic to this extent before, and he didn’t know if he was ever going to escape.

‘You tricked her.’ Morgause snarled, her dark eyes lit golden, a vengeful look that would probably be the last thing he saw, if this pain was anything to go by.

‘I didn’t have to. She saw what you were, and went running.’ Maybe provoking the most powerful sorceress alive wasn’t a good idea, but what else had Merlin got to do? It was wait in the dark for the end, or make her angry enough to bring death early. The latter would be merciful.

‘I’ll make you beg, Emrys. Beg to kill your King.’

**

Merlin had been captured for twenty-three days. He knew this, because Morgause may be a maniac, but she had a routine. Every morning, before the sun rose, a plate with some food would be placed outside the bars, just beyond his reach. Merlin would have to stretch, to use his feet through the bars, to scrape and use every ounce of energy to just about reach it. Then, once he had the food, he’d eat. It was usually mouldy (if he was lucky enough for the substance to be mould), and then he would drain the half-cup of water.

Next came the midday torture session. He would be dragged from his cell, chained up by a Guard that, as of yet, hadn't changed. Merlin had named him Tree, for he was almost as tall as one, he swore. Morgause would make him suffer, try and break from him all the information of Camelot, and in return, Merlin would sass her. She’d be less than impressed, get bored of his attitude, and then send him back to the cell.

Tree would have a go beating him up, and then he’d be placed back in. That was the routine.

On day fifteen, he was dunked in freezing cold water after his round of torture, and so Merlin presumed this would happen again, on day thirty. He didn’t intend to let it get that far, he was hoping that Morgause would have snapped by then.

Merlin didn’t think he could stay sane with thirty days of torture.

**

Saving Morgana had been his biggest challenge. He didn’t know why he hadn't listened to Kilgharrah, perhaps it was because he could see how much Gwen loved the half-Pendragon. Maybe it was because Arthur found out they were half-siblings, and hugged her so tightly that Merlin could see him forgiving the fact that she had been born with Magic. It could have been all these things, but really, Merlin knew it was because he didn’t want to believe that somebody had no choice but to obey destiny.

He’d lost so many people to such a thing, to the notion that he could only ever be Arthur’s protector. Sitting down, looking at all the facts he had, Merlin had made a decision. That he wouldn’t let Morgana go.

He told her everything. From Morgause, to Uther’s use of Magic to conceive Arthur, to the prophecy that contained her demise. From his own Magic, to the fact she was a Seer. Morgana listened to every word, did not interrupt once, and when he got to the end of the speech, finishing off with how Kilgharrah had told him to kill her, she cocked her head.

‘Why didn’t you?’ Merlin had taken her hands in his, a gesture he would not usually dare, and looked into her eyes.

‘I can’t let that be the truth.’ That had been it, all Merlin had said, and Morgana had begun to listen. Had played Morgause perfectly, found out the plans and managed to help Merlin stop the attack against Uther. The old King had grown weary, anyway, and Merlin had watched Arthur become Prince Regent, the crown on top of his head shining in the sunlight.

Morgana had called him soft, told him that her brother did not deserve a man that loved him as much as Merlin loved Arthur. Like he were a brother, Merlin thought, but he had never had a sibling. Morgana took his hand, unseen by anyone apart from Gaius, who always knew when something was happening, and laced their fingers together.

‘I would call you brother, if I dared to face Arthur’s moods.’ Merlin had never had any siblings, but now he had two, even if he could never tell one of them. He’d smiled to Morgana, let her Magic settle against his, and had believed them to be victorious.

**

They were not victorious, Merlin thought, wiping the back of his mouth. It came back red, which was reassuring, and the Warlock looked around his cell. The straw was damp, the jacket that he used to wear was ripped to tatters, which the rats occasionally stole. The bars were the only source of entertainment, he could just about see the marks where others had tried to break them, small lines or dents that he liked to daydream about.

Had they escaped? Or had they, like he was now, been chained by cold iron, had it wrapped around his ankles and wrists and a collar around his neck, which felt chilled him to the bone?

Twenty-three days, and he was beginning to think that he’d be able to see his bones, by the end of this. Already they stood out against his skin, haunting lines that became more and more pronounced, like he was going to become the first skeleton to walk. He supposed that might be an achievement worth celebrating, for perhaps then the rats would stop trying to eat the flesh from his bones.

**

When he first met Gwen, he’d been in the stocks. The friendship blossomed from then, until they would spend most of their free time together. She was in love with Morgana, that had been obvious from the start. Even after their kiss, when Merlin assured her that being in love with Morgana was perfectly okay, that he was pretty sure Morgana reciprocated the feelings, they were still the closest of friends.

She had been the one to learn about his Magic, had seen him teaching Morgana. She swore that she wouldn’t tell a soul, especially not Arthur, who wasn’t quite ready to learn that his manservant had Magic.

He’d helped cover for Gwen, when her and Morgana were wrapped up in bed together. When they bought courting gifts, he’d take the fall if anyone found them, ending in teasing for hours from the Knights. It was worth every second, to see his best friend so happy, a smile that never ended.

Then her father had died. Magic. He tried everything, fought so hard, admitted to Magic, yet nothing had stopped the devastation. Gwen had wept for hours, and Merlin had held her, apologised over and over for things he wished he could change. Morgana had joined them, told Merlin that she was tempted to kill Uther, that it would solve so many things.

She hadn't, Uther had lost his mind anyway, and Arthur had become the ruler. Had begun the process of repealing the ban on Magic, even before Uther was dead. Gwen had been an advisor to him, a shoulder for him to lean on, not that he’d ever admit to such a weakness.

Then he’d found out about the two of them, asked Morgana and Gwen to explain themselves. It had been the four of them, plus the Knights of the Round Table, and Morgana had held her head high.

‘I love her.’ She stated simply, and Gwen had taken her hand.

‘And I love her right back.’ Gwen had levelled Arthur with a glare that dared him to defy, and Merlin had beamed at the two of them. When the Prince Regent had turned to him, asking if he knew anything about this, Merlin kept his hands clasped behind his back, placed on his best innocent expression.

‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Sire.’

**

The rats were getting more bold. They crept forwards, right to his boots, and chewed at the leather. He had fought them, for the first little while. Then he got bored, figured if he ever got hungry enough, at least he could eat a rat. The confidence got to them, they sat on his own leg, nibbled at his skin.

He had lost most of his breeches, at some point. He was left with tattered remains, sitting just above his knees. His shirt was gone, as well, a pillow that did nothing to hide the cold stone. It wasn’t even the worst part of captivity, that was, without a doubt, the lack of hope. He knew everything of Camelot, had been captured before by people wanting to get to Arthur.

Usually, Arthur could find him. But this was different, he’d been snatched while out picking herbs for Gaius, and the man that snatched him had been killed. Merlin knew that, Morgause had slit his throat and let the blood run into Merlin’s cell.

The body was probably dumped somewhere near the entrance to Camelot, Merlin was sure of that. He could imagine Arthur’s Knights finding the body, telling them that they had no leads. That all they knew was that it had to be Morgause.

**

Merlin had fallen in love, without ever realising it was happening. It started simply, with the company to do his chores, the bright smiles and the laughter that echoed wherever the two of them went. Merlin didn’t even realise when it happened, just knew that one day, he’d realised that he couldn’t quite imagine a life without Gwaine.

He didn’t tell the Knight. He didn’t dare, not when Gwaine was nobility and Merlin was a mere servant.

They spent their time together, both on Hunts, missions and back in Camelot. Gwaine was the first Knight that he told about his Magic, considering Lancelot found out by accident, and he was thrilled by the sorcery. Loved it, would demand spells whenever they were alone, liked the fact that Merlin could defend himself. It made him less worried on Hunts, Gwaine started noticing the convenient moments where they escaped impossible odds.

He told the Knight about his Hatchling Dragon, about how worried he was that Morgana would slip.

He wished he’d told Gwaine that he loved him. The Knight deserved affection, even if Merlin didn’t deserve it in return.

**

‘Please.’ He croaked, blood dribbling down his chin. Morgause eyed him with disgust, kicked his feet out from under him, and he hung from the chains. It hurt, oh Goddess did it hurt, it felt like she’d peeled back his skin and revealed the muscles underneath. In fact, looking at the knife, that was entirely possible.

‘Tell me how to get into Camelot. Tell me how to kill Arthur.’ The knife hovered over his lips, began to push past into his mouth. He was missing teeth, they’d been pulled out, and he had an awful feeling that his tongue was going to follow. What good was his Magic, if he couldn’t speak?

‘N-never.’ The word, although garbled because there was a knife in his mouth, was understood. Morgause sighed, removed the knife, and then her fingers were reaching into his mouth. He tried to bite, but a rod was placed into his mouth, levered open.

He prayed. Begged whoever was listening to come and get him, for someone to save him from this.

_‘Morgana, wherever you are, please. Please, please don’t leave Arthur. I need to know he’ll be safe, this can’t… it can’t be in vain. Goddess, Morgana, keep them safe. Keep Gwaine safe. Please.’_

The knife burnt like fire.

**

Elyan was the next Knight to find out he had Magic. Merlin was in Gwen’s bed, as was pretty common now that everyone knew she was with Morgana, the two of them stitching up the clothes that Arthur always managed to tear apart. There were some strawberries to keep them fed, a fire in the main room, and Merlin was showing Gwen how he had tried to patch the shirts with Magic.

Elyan was supposed to be at training, which was why Merlin squealed and fell off the bed when the Knight walked into the room. When he managed to get out from under the blankets, he found Elyan staring at the hovering needle.

‘Merlin!’ Gwen hissed, and he blankly looked to the floating needle, then back to Elyan.

‘I can explain.’ He really couldn’t, and Elyan knew that, lips curling up slightly into a smile.

‘Only you, a man that admitted to sorcery in front of Uther, would actually have Magic.’ And then the man sat down, and demanded an explanation of everything that he hadn't been telling. Merlin had explained a little of the truth, and found that it wasn’t so bad, having another person know his secret.

**

_‘Hey, Morgana. I figure by now that you can’t hear me. If you can, I’m sorry you have to listen to this. A dying man’s speech, pretty grim by any accounts._

_The rats haven’t eaten me yet. I guess I should be thankful, but they seem to be avoiding me like I’m a disease. Perhaps they know I’m tainted meat. Rotting._

_I haven’t told Morgause anything. Figured I could die doing what I do best, keeping Arthur safe. Funny, huh? Anyway, I need you to know this isn’t any of your faults._

_I should have known this would happen. Should have kept you all safe._

_I’m so sorry I couldn’t.’_

**

He’d know Leon for five years. Ever since he arrived in Camelot, a boy of only sixteen summers, he’d been aware of the Knight. One of Arthur’s closest friends, and a good man. They grew closer, especially when Arthur’s friendship with Leon bloomed, the two regularly going on Hunts together. Merlin became, in a weird way, protective over the Knight.

He didn’t want to lose any of them, but he started looking out for Leon. When bandits came, once he knew Arthur was safe, Leon was the next he turned to. That changed slightly, when Gwaine came along, but he still made sure to keep a close eye.

Leon was the fourth of the five Knights to find out. It was one evening, when he had been accompanying the Knight on his patrol. He didn’t have to, just felt like Leon needed some company. Plus, he had a feeling. And although Arthur pointed out that his feelings were just what it said on the tin, feelings, they usually turned out correct.

The Knight would have died that night, had Merlin not been there. A complete accident, a falling hay-cart that would have crushed him. Leon was too slow, but Merlin’s Magic reacted.

After Leon had calmed down a hyperventilating Merlin, the Knight had told him that he would tell nobody. That Merlin was like a little brother to him.

He now had three siblings. Four, if he included Elyan, who treated him like a brother. He’d never felt more happy, let Leon embrace him and ruffled his hair.

**

The man entered the cell, breaking the routine. Merlin rose his head, tasted nothing but blood, and stared.

‘I’ve never failed to break someone, sorcerer.’ Merlin would have spoken, had his tongue not been cut in half. Instead, he rolled his eyes, which earnt him a nice kick to his ribs. He heard the crunch, grimaced and gagged up as much of the blood as he could.

Why was he still alive? What did he know, that Morgause could possibly need? No, he knew the answer to that. Like the way Arthur Pendragon was destined to die. Or where the Dragon was. Or how to reach Arthur.

‘But I have a trick left. Shame, you’d have been a lot prettier with some meat on your bones.’ A hand gripped his hair, tugged him up and the rest of his clothes were stripped. Merlin decided that it was a good thing he did not have a tongue, otherwise he would have bitten the man. As it was, he kicked and screamed as best as he could, tried to avoid the inevitable.

Still, it did very little when the man was easily the size of Percival, and Merlin found his head on the damp floor staring at the rats.

They didn’t dare leave the shadows.

**

Percival had been the last of the five Knights to discover Merlin’s Magic, when logically, he was the one least likely to have an issue with it. His parents had belonged to a Druid community, which made the entire thing safer for Merlin, when Percival did find out.

The four other Knights had been convening to discuss Merlin’s Magic, with Merlin himself sitting on the table eating an apple, when Percival walked in.

‘Do you not trust me?’ Had been Percival’s hurt words, when he thought that they were plotting something without him. Each had tried to come up with an excuse, quickly, stammering over words.

‘I have Magic.’ Merlin stated, took another bite of his apple, and then put his hands in his lap. Expecting hatred, when he was yet again surprised by the fact that each of the Knights treated him like one of their own.

‘Can you show me?’

Merlin had a very large family.

**

The bath happened because Morgause almost vomited the moment she walked into the room. Apparently, even she could not stand the state that Merlin was in. Tree dragged him from his cell by his ankle, dumping him into the bath of cold water with very little care. That was bad enough, but large hands clamped down on his shoulders, shoved him under and held him there.

The water burnt. Every open cut, every bruise and slice, and Merlin realised in horror that there was salt in the water.

They were trying to keep him alive. The salt water entered his mouth the moment he breathed in, hoping to die, but they were smart. He was up and coughing out water, spluttering, choking on it.

‘He still stinks.’

‘He’s rotting.’ Tree pointed out, evidently sarcasm was not his strong point, and Morgause wasn’t impressed.

‘We don’t know anything yet.’ She snapped, and Merlin realised in horror that they had gotten past the point of trying to be strong. They knew he had nothing left, they didn’t even deem him a threat. The cold iron around him ached, but even if he had his Magic, he couldn’t speak.

‘I don’t think he’ll break.’ The handprints around his hips hadn't faded, and Merlin didn’t exactly want a repeat. Still, it was nice to know that it probably wouldn’t happen again, considering Tree thought it wasn’t working.

‘He has to! He’s just a boy!’ She hissed, and Merlin fought a laugh. It sounded weird anyway, like he was choking.

‘They’re closing in on us. The tracking spell, they’ve got the Witch on their side!’ Morgause’s eyes were gold, and Tree was being pushed back. Merlin had the chance to scamper out of the way, watching the two with hesitancy. If he ran now, he might get three paces. Maybe she’d get angry enough to kill him.

‘Then we take something else of his. What good is a mute sorcerer? Let’s make this one deaf, as well.’

Merlin was beginning to wish he’d run.

**

Lancelot had been Merlin’s closest friend. He was a good man, had kept his secret, even when Merlin knew he wanted to tell Arthur. Loyalty torn between the two, unable to keep his heart with one of them. Merlin had grown to trust Lancelot a lot, they were close, and he was the only one, perhaps Morgana aside, that knew how he felt for Gwaine.

Merlin wanted Lancelot to know this wasn’t his fault. That telling Arthur would have done nothing but make this situation worse. Goddess, he was going to miss his friend so damn much…

Anyway, Lancelot had been a good friend. They had spent time together, much like he and Gwen did. To begin with, Gwaine had been slightly jealous. Called Lancelot out, for spending all of Merlin’s free time. Then the Knight had pointed out that Gwaine was welcome to join them, and he had. The three of them, off to Taverns and getting in all sorts of mischief.

One night, they had got so drunk that Merlin had tried to carry them both back, only for Lancelot to land flat on his face, and Gwaine start chatting up a wall. That was the funniest moment of Merlin’s life, he’d never laughed so hard, the image preserved every time he closed his eyes.

**

Merlin couldn’t hear anything. His hands could pick up on the vibrations, faint tremors in the surface of the earth. The stone was always cold to the touch, but it still worked. He’d never realised how lonely it must be, with nothing to hear.

When Tree came, the man sat down by the cell, stared across at him with an expression Merlin recognised as guilt. Merlin, for his part, couldn’t do much. He stared back, watched the man drum his fingertips across his knees.

Tree spoke. Merlin couldn’t hear him, picked up on random words like “never” and “regret” and “druid”. Merlin realised that the man must know who he was. His real name, the one the Druids gave him, Emrys. Even more importantly, Tree hadn't told Morgause. He had friend, even if the friend was the one that had done unspeakable things.

Merlin looked to his hand. The one that had only three fingers on it. Well, two fingers and one thumb, the nails gone. He then moved, ever so slowly, towards the man. Until Tree was on the other side of the bars, and Merlin hesitated.

Reached out, and took Tree’s hand. Tracing carefully, to make sure that there was no room for misunderstanding. Repeated it, again and again, until the man began to sob. A grown man, a person who had tortured him, sobbing. Tears that rolled freely, until the hand gripped his.

“Swear” and “right” and “home”. That was all he understood, but he knew that Tree was going to do the right thing. So, he wrote the words once last time, in case the man forgot.

I-F-O-R-G-I-V-E-Y-O-U


	2. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's... well, rescued

‘You think you can stop me?’ Percival’s grip on his sword tightened, not really liking the odds, but understanding that Arthur wasn’t going to stop. Not until they found Merlin, who had been missing for a month now. Morgana was heartbroken, claimed to be able to hear bits and pieces from him, through the bond they shared. Magic.

Arthur hadn't taken that well, to begin with. Percival understood that the Prince-Regent felt betrayed, knew that he felt angry that he was the last one to find out that Merlin was a sorcerer. But then came the worry, the utter fear that they weren’t going to find him, that Merlin was going to die and Arthur could never tell him that he was okay with Merlin being a sorcerer.

Morgause looked amused at the challenge, six Knights versus one Sorceress, who stood with a smirk on her face. Ever since they found out about her, she’d been causing havoc on the Kingdom. Spells, enchantments, curses that came creeping into Camelot’s borders and raining down havoc. Then there were her attempts to reach Morgana, which nobody wanted to happen, Merlin especially.

‘Where is he?’ Arthur growled, hands tightening around Excalibur, and she laughed. Laughed, like the entire situation was hilarious, and Percival’s gut tightened. No, Merlin couldn’t be dead, it wasn’t possible. He was fine, probably hiding somewhere, or chained up. But he’d be fine, it was Merlin. The boy was invincible.

‘Your servant? Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure you’re getting him back any time soon. If you kill me, you’ll never find him.’ Merlin was alive. That was what they took from that sentence, that Merlin was alive and they could get him back.

But then Morgause’s eyes were flicking golden, and she was muttering words, and Percival readied himself for the attack.

Only for it to be halted. Morgause gasped, blood trickling from her lips, looking down to where a sword was buried through her stomach. It was pulled back, the Sorceress dropping to her knees, then pitching forwards into the dirt. Behind her, a mountain of a man, scruffy looking but with a guilty expression.

‘State your name.’ Arthur growled, levelling Excalibur with the man’s chest.

‘Gavrid, my Lord. I worked for Morgause, I know where your sorcerer is.’ Percival could have cried in relief, watched Arthur’s expression turn to one of hope.

‘If you’ve hurt him…’ Lancelot warned, like he didn’t dare to hope. The man, Gavrid, looked down at the floor for a moment. The sick feeling was back, that didn’t look like a man that had nothing to hide.

‘He’s about eighty paces back from here, between two oak trees. There’s a hatch on the floor. I just ask… please, be merciful.’ Arthur’s glare had returned, and Gwaine began to move, but he was gripped by the Prince.

‘Not you. Leon, Percival. Go and find Merlin.’ Gwaine had been a wreck, ever since Merlin was captured. Percival shot his friend an apologetic smile, before rushing after Leon.

**

Merlin was playing with one of the rats when he felt someone coming down the stairs. Two people, Morgause and Tree, he presumed. That was the last thing he wanted, didn’t know if he could deal with another round of torture so quickly after the last. He forced himself to straighten his spine, to shoo away the rats and turn.

Leon. Curly hair, bright red cape, and Merlin’s heart cracked. He stood, watched as the Knight broke into the cell that had been holding him for so long, his lips moving quickly, but no sound reaching Merlin. The Warlock flinched away when Leon’s arm stretched out, cowered away from the touch, without even really meaning to do so.

That was when he spotted Percival as well, the Knight coming in his direction, also speaking. Merlin could feel the tears spilling down his cheeks, unable to do anything but start shaking his head, because Oh Goddess, he couldn’t hear them!

**

There was something wrong. The stench of rotting meat was bad enough, the stale musk that Leon gagged back, the rats that scampered around his feet. Merlin looked awful, barely dressed, thinner than any mad he’d ever seen, with eyes that were hauntingly wide. The moment he reached out for him, the servant flinched away, fear rolling off of him.

‘Merlin, it’s me. Arthur’s waiting for us, you’re safe now.’ But the servant kept crying, looked to Percival, who had appeared. From his pale face, Leon could only assume he’d seen something horrible.

‘Torture. They tortured him.’ The taller man grunted, and Leon caught sight of Merlin’s left hand. It was missing fingers, he realised in horror, under all the dirt and grime that covered him. The Warlock was still shaking, staring up at them and making horrible sounds, and Leon noted something that caught his attention.

The collar around his neck. Cold Iron, Lady Morgana had said that it cut off Magic, and that was how Morgause had managed to keep him chained. He unpinned his cape, wrapped it around Merlin’s shoulders in one smooth movement, tried not to think too hard about the fact that Merlin shied away like a spooked horse.

‘Merlin, it’s okay. Morgause is dead, you’re safe. We’ll get you back to Camelot, and…’ Leon halted, because Percival was stepping closer.

‘Leon.’ He looked to his friend, who looked like he was about to be sick.

‘What?’ The First Knight asked, and Percival’s eyes were filling with tears.

‘He can’t hear us.’ It felt like he’d been punched. The Knight turned to look back at their friend, at his little brother, back to the bright eyes that were pleading with him.

‘You can’t hear us.’ He stated aloud, watched Merlin’s eyes flick to his lips, understanding dawning on the young man. He burst into tears all over again, and Leon rocked back. Percival, however, was on his next mission. Fingers reaching out, to Merlin’s jaw, and the sounds came back. The ones that sounded like a dying cat, strangled and choked off sounds, like Merlin was begging.

When his mouth opened, Leon threw up. He couldn’t help it, turned to the side and brought up the awful stew Lancelot had cooked for them, gagged at the taste of bile.

Merlin’s tongue had been cut.

**

Gavrid knew he was going to be executed, from the moment he saw how protective the men were of the boy. The two Knights returned, behind them, a bundle of red. Black hair peeked out the top, eyes wide and terrified, and Gavrid expected the punch before it happened. The curly-haired Knight struck him hard, before drawing his sword, and was only stopped when the Prince told him to stop.

‘I’m going to kill you, you sick bastard, you evil little…’

‘Leon!’ The Knight fell still, while another was pushing past the Prince in the direction of Emrys. He had long hair, stubble and eyes that dared anyone to defy him.

‘Merlin.’ Breathed out, like a prayer, and Gavrid watched as the Warlock cowered away, stumbling back from the man. That was his fault, he’d done that, and he had to watch the crestfallen expression on the Knight’s face.

‘Sire,’ The large Knight began, while Leon still fought to get free,

‘Merlin’s deaf.’ Everyone turned to stare at the large Knight, then looked to Emrys, who was peering up at him. Then looking to Morgause, like he was trying to piece together what happened.

‘And mute.’ Leon spat out, and the longer-haired Knight was now the one lunging for him. Nobody tried to stop him, not until a garbled sound filled the clearing, and Emrys was getting between them.

The boy looked back to him, tilted his head and stared up, waiting. Gavrid reached out, noting the way each Knight reached for his sword, took the hand of the Warlock and reached for his palm.

Like he had done, down in the cell, he traced out the letters carefully.

F-R-E-E-N-O-W

**

Arthur had told the man to run, and he did just that. Sprinted off into the trees, while Arthur looked to his manservant, that was huddled in Leon’s cape like it was the only thing protecting him.

‘He really cannot hear us?’ He asked, ignored the way his tears threatened to spill. Just the fact that Merlin didn’t look to him was enough to answer the question, the man was focused on Morgause’s body.

‘No, Sire.’ Leon had relaxed, was moving across to the sorcerer, who peeked up at him cautiously, before accepting the person by his side. Only then did Merlin’s eyes meet his, so unsure, and Arthur’s heart splintered.

‘We need to get him to Camelot. Maybe… maybe Morgana can heal him.’ He didn’t even know if such a thing were possible, but he had to hope.

**

Merlin was struggling to walk. He did not know why they did not have horses, why they had chosen to walk on foot. He didn’t even know where they were, just that his feet ached and his body was cold, that he had no idea how he was ever going to make it back to Camelot.

Occasionally, he tried to figure out what the Knights were saying. Their lips would move, but it was too fast for him to pick up on, and he was stuck following Leon like a lost duck. Gwaine looked across at him every so often, and Merlin didn’t dare smile, not when he was missing teeth and had a tongue that had made Leon throw up.

They stopped for the Knight, or at least, that was what Merlin figured they were doing. They began to reach for the satchels they had been carrying, food and waterskins that made Merlin’s stomach tighten, and the Warlock began to look around for firewood. He wandered off slightly, into the trees, began to attempt to pick up some of the logs. His back ached, his hands were dirty, but he figured that it wasn’t so bad, he could still-

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Merlin yelped, stumbled away and tripped over the cape that kept him warm, attempted to scramble back across the floor, before recognising Lancelot. His friend, who was staring at him with eyes that showed so much pain, and Merlin forced himself to relax.

Lancelot was speaking, slowly, lips shaping the words very clearly, and Merlin understood that they were asking him to come and sit down. That they could deal with the fire. Feeling rather redundant, the Warlock slowly stood, moved back to where they had dropped their items, and sat himself down.

Firewood was gathered, a flint used to start a flame, and he huddled slightly closer. It was nice and warm, far different from the cold in the cell, and Merlin watched the fire dance in front of him. Pretty, hypnotic, he could almost forget that he felt like he was about to die.

Lancelot was back, with a waterskin that he offered out. Merlin reached for it with his left hand, before remembering that he was missing two fingers, and let his right hand join. Clutched at it, unclasped the top and drank. It tasted good, far better than water ever had, and it soothed his sore mouth as he guzzled it down.

He froze when it was empty, realised that he had just emptied the entire thing, but Lancelot was just smiling, looking pleased.

‘More?’ He focused on the Knight’s lips, read the word, then shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do was overpower his stomach.

Watching the Knight attempt to make stew was funny, Lancelot was awful, and he could tell the others were attempting to tease him. When the Knight spun around and glared at Elyan for something he had said, Merlin chuckled, it was funny to see them acting so normal.

Heads turned in his direction, and the Warlock realised that he had made a sound. He flinched, looked back down at the ground and tried not to interrupt again, only looking up when he felt the footsteps approaching.

Leon offered out a bowl of stew, and Merlin accepted it carefully. He was unsure if he could chew the larger pieces, opted for swallowing down as much of the hot broth as he could, ignoring the ache in his jaw. Then he focused on one of the larger bits of meat, he hoped it was rabbit, and started to stab at it with the spoon. When that failed, he had to resort to using his fingers, tearing it to absolute shreds before raising it to his lips.

Oh, it was good. Really good, and he finished the entire bowl in a matter of moments. His stomach felt so full, almost like it should curve out in front of him. With the food in him, Merlin decided he could rest, took the edge of Leon’s cape and wrapped it around his knees. Tucked himself as tightly as he dared, placed his head down onto the ground, and shut his eyes.

**

Morning brought more walking, which Merlin was too numb to complain about, walking with the six men surrounding him. He did not know what they intended to do, hoped that the collar would come off when they got back to Camelot. His Magic, it had been gone for so long, he almost forgot what the heat felt like. Never had he craved something so much, tried to work out what the buzzing was in his head as he moved.

He was humming. Merlin paused, wondered when he’d started such a tune, then began to think about how it sounded. His throat was sore as it was, from the heavy collar, he had to imagine the sounds he was making were just as awful. That thought had him smiling, served the Knights right, they deserved to listen to his awful garbled mess if he had to listen to their stories about tavern-girls and hunting poor, defenceless creatures.

It was with a start that he realised he no longer had to listen to such a thing. That, if they were talking about such things, he couldn’t hear it anymore.

That turned his mood sour, and Merlin decided not to make any sounds any more, opting for following in Arthur’s footsteps and trying not to fall over any more.

They stopped by a stream, where Merlin decided it was time to see what was under the grime on his hands. He scrubbed at the skin, picked away at the dried mess until he could see his pale skin. Morgause, when she had taken his fingers, had crushed the bone first. Then his fingers were gone, and she’d had to use a spell, because the wounds got infected almost immediately.

Now, all that was left was a weird scar, jagged and ugly. It was weird, as he clenched his left hand, he could almost feel where the fingers had been, his brain telling him that he still had all of them attached. Yet there was a gap, and Merlin stared at it for a very long time, before he heard someone approaching. No, not heard, felt.

He spun around, only to see Percival, sad eyes staring at Merlin’s hands. The servant, determined to show them that he was fine, wiggled each of his remaining fingers and attempted to smile.

His lip split, and that ruined any happiness that he had tried to build.

**

Morgana came running down the stairs, and Arthur could not warn her in time. Merlin was flinching away, making that awful sound that Arthur swore would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. His sister halted, tears already falling, and Merlin looked uncomfortable.

‘Morgana…’ He began, wondering how she would ever be able to forgive herself, not that it was her fault. But she blamed herself, just as he did, they should have been keeping a closer eye on him.

Gwen was walking towards Merlin, slow and steady, offering out her hand and soothing words.

‘He’s deaf.’ Arthur spat out, hating the way his heart ached and his stomach twisted. Both of them looked to him, shocked, and he had to force the next words out.

‘And mute.’ Morgana fled, back into the Castle, while Gwen stated she’d take him to Gaius.

**

Merlin sat in the bath, shivering as Gwen scrubbed at his skin. She didn’t say anything, not that he’d have been able to hear, and the silence was painful. The cloth rubbed across his skin, her dainty fingers tracking each mark and wound, skipping over bruises while she tried to keep a smile on her face.

Gaius was moving around, had taken one look at him and ordered him into the bath. Once Gwen had scrubbed him clean, he got up on unsteady feet. Dried himself, dressed in just his smallclothes, knowing that Gaius would want to check him over.

With no way to communicate, he sat in silence, watched his father-figure look him over. First his feet, a salve that instantly took away the burn, before the wounds on his legs were treated. Different bandages that wrapped around his body parts, the nails that he was missing were given a coat of some weird liquid that tickled, and then Gaius made him open his mouth.

Gaius was talking to Gwen, who was writing things down on a piece of parchment, and Merlin wondered what they were discussing. The hands were going over to his ears, checking for lumps on his head and marks, before they landed on the collar. More words, and Merlin was wishing he had his hearing back.

Then, the hands went to his hips. His heart seemed to stop, body tensing up on instinct and his hand going to shove him away, before he found Gaius staring right into his gaze. He forced himself to stop, to relax, but couldn’t meet his Uncle’s stare again.

Whatever Gaius asked Gwen to write down, it had Gwen crying.

**

Arthur sat in his room, with the Knights each at their seat, and Morgana by the window. The door opened, Gwen and Gaius walking in, and he took note of how Gwen rushed straight to Morgana. They held hands, exchanged brief whispers that were not meant to be heard, and Arthur looked to Gaius. He’d trusted the physician ever since he was a boy, knew that the man would do his very best for Merlin.

‘The extent of his injuries?’ He asked, hating how cold his voice sounded. God, he wanted to speak to Merlin, to tell him how sorry he was that this had happened. Already, his council were questioning him on what Morgause had been told, on what her followers knew. On what Merlin had told them. How was he supposed to ask such a thing?

‘Two fractured ribs, extensive abdominal bruising but I don’t believe there’s any mass internal bleeding. Two missing fingers, eight missing nails. Broken toes, eighteen different lacerations made with a dagger of some kind. Numerous bruises which I’d associate with blunt force, but no evidence that his loss in hearing is because of a fall or hit. More likely a spell. Eight missing teeth, and the tongue has been severed with something that cauterised the wound as it cut. Evidence that his Magic is attempting to heal him, if the collar is broken, he may be able to recover his own hearing. As for the missing fingers… I don’t know if his Magic can do such a thing.’

He wasn’t going to be sick, he wouldn’t let himself. Arthur nodded, went to ask the next question, before Gaius spoke up once again.

‘Sire, there is evidence… evidence of assault.’ Arthur was about to point out that it was very clear there had been an assault, before realising what the physician was hinting to. His stomach tightened, and Gwaine’s chair was tipped back, the Knight gone before Arthur could stop him.

‘Has he tried to… say anything?’ Ignoring the very poor word choice, Gaius shook his head.

‘Not yet, Sire. If it’s alright with Lady Morgana, I’ll send him up to have the collar removed?’ Arthur nodded, desperate to know if the Magic would fix this.

Somehow, he figured it wasn’t going to be that simple.

**

When Merlin made it to Arthur’s Chambers, they were quite full. Gwaine was sitting in the corner, looking pretty murderous, although he smiled the moment he saw Merlin. The Warlock felt the pressure in his chest relax slightly, went to speak, before reminding himself that he couldn’t do such a thing.

Morgana was walking in his direction, speaking gently in what he imagined was a low tone, attempting to reassure him. Her hands reached out, and Merlin forced his feet to keep him still. Fingers at the collar, her eyes flicking golden, and the cold iron snapped.

The heat returned like a flood, and he stumbled back as his Magic soared through him, attempting to settle back where it had been caged. Merlin waited, figured Arthur knew he had Magic by this point, might as well see if this worked. Held his breath, turned his palm to the ceiling and tried to summon something.

Anything. Even a spark, but the more he stared, the more his Magic seemed to vanish. Nothing.

He was powerless. Emrys, the greatest Warlock to ever walk the Earth, couldn’t even bring a simple flame to his palm. He tried again, focused until his eyes grew blurry, until he realised he was crying. Morgana was trying to speak to him, coming closer, but he didn’t want to speak to her.

Didn’t she realise? He was worthless. Nothing, now his Magic was gone. He wasn’t anything, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t call for his hatchling or tell them how much he missed them or tell them that he thought he was dying inside.

Could do nothing but make awful sounds, he knew how bad they had to be, the group were cringing away from him as he fled from the room, taking his worthless Magic with him.

**

Merlin didn’t acknowledge their attempts to cheer him up. Gaius made him dinner, tried to write down things on a piece of paper, questions to see if he was alright, and Merlin balled the paper up and threw it in the fire. Ate the chicken broth, before it made a reappearance, and Merlin regretted ever trying to eat.

He washed his mouth out, went to his room and curled up on the cot. Turned his back to the door and sobbed, because he didn’t have anything left.

His Magic, useless. His hatchling, alone with nobody to care for it, forgotten because he could no longer call for him.

How was he supposed to keep Arthur safe? He couldn’t be a manservant, let alone a protector! Merlin cried, his tears tasting bitter and body shuddering with each sob. He felt the door open, knew Gaius wanted to comfort him, before it shut again.

Even Gaius didn’t know what to do with him.

**

Sneaking out was easy, even if Merlin couldn’t hear. Guards made a lot of sound, and by affect, the vibrations were usually easy to pick up on. Fleeing Camelot’s walls, out into the forest and in the well-travelled route towards the hut, Merlin wondered if he should give up hope now. His destiny could never be complete, he wasn’t able to keep Arthur safe anymore. In fact, the King would probably send him away.

The Hut was empty, Aithusa was presumably with Kilgharrah, and Merlin slumped down onto the floor. His last chance, vanished, and all he could do was try and scream. He could hear the sound in his mind, helpless and horrible, a sound that would make any grown man cringe.

**

They didn’t try to touch him. Sometimes, they’d reach out for him, before remembering that he was now broken, and snatching their hands back like he’d been burnt. George was serving Arthur now, Merlin would watch him run about after the Prince-Regent, be there every time Arthur needed him. Merlin felt the ache growing, the pain that he couldn’t ever stop, that no salve or bandage could save.

Magic-less, job-less, friendless. He found himself being summoned to the council meeting, stared at in sympathy by the people that tried to help Arthur run his Kingdom, people that hated the fact that Arthur was trying to repeal the ban on Magic. They stared at him like he was expendable, spoke to the Prince, who was watching Merlin.

The Warlock figured that they wanted to know what Morgause wanted. Sure enough, a piece of paper was brought to him, and he read the page with a blank expression.

_What did Morgause ask? How many of them were there? Did they give anything away?_

This was his only purpose, once he’d told him this, that was it. There was nothing left for him. Merlin picked up the offered pen, thought back to all the times he had corrected Arthur’s speeches, or helped him write up formal documents. That was George’s job now.

_How to get into Camelot._

_How many Guards, and the rotation of the sentries._

_How to reach Morgana._

_Where the hunting parties go._

_The location of the gold reserve._

_The location of the access tunnels beneath the Castle._

_Only two people, Morgause and the man. Wanted to get to Morgana, to kill Uther and Arthur._

Perhaps he should have given them titles, when he wrote down the name of the two Pendragons. Oh well, he sent the note back, and it was read aloud by one of Uther’s advisors. Merlin watched the man’s lips, noted that he added the titles when he read the last two named anyway. Arthur was asking a question, a question aimed at Merlin, who didn’t understand. The Knights behind him looked tense, Morgana and Gwen worried, and from his position at the door, even Gaius had raised the dreaded eyebrow.

The paper returned, and Merlin stared down at the question.

_Which ones did you answer?_

What? They thought… of course they did. Merlin could have laughed, had he got the ability to, swallowed down the taste of bile and grabbed the pen. One word, four letters, sent right back to the idiot reading it.

‘None.’ He could almost hear the word, imagined how it would sound, and then looked to Arthur. Arthur, who was staring right back at him, actually crying. Proper tears, rolling down his cheeks, and he was angry, so very angry.

Stood up, fingers gripping the throne tight enough that Merlin was actually concerned, before he was shouting.

Shouting at Merlin. The Warlock could lip-read some of it, the general idea that Merlin was a bloody idiot, a loyal idiot, and that he could have died. That he could have DIED because of his loyalty, and Merlin just stared at Arthur.

How had the Prince not realised, Merlin would die before letting Arthur suffer?

He didn’t bow, just walked out of the room and decided it was time to let go of the pain.

**

The ramparts were rather nice, in the sun. He stood at the edge, breathed in the fresh air and tasted (he was so glad he could still taste) the cleanliness of the space. His hair ruffled in the breeze, and when he shut his eyes, he could hear the chatter of the village beneath, the laughter from the market and the shout of Arthur demanding Merlin to keep up with him, to stop being such a prat.

When his eyes opened, the sky was darkening, and he was still on the ledge. He let his bare toes grab at the edge, rocked slightly, let his arms hang down by his sides, tried to understand when he’d started crying.

Emrys, the greatest Warlock to walk the earth, losing his job because he couldn’t use his Magic anymore. Everything good about him came from his Magic, everything that made the Knights care for him, that made the family that he wanted to stay with so badly.

He’d done well. Had got Arthur to start legalising Magic, the Prince was protected by Morgana now, he’d be okay without Merlin.

Gwen would find a new best friend, would be just fine without their weekend meetings. The Knights could adopt a new manservant, George was alright, once they’d got past the brass jokes.

And Gwaine. Well, that had been wishful thinking on Merlin’s part anyway. The likelihood of that happening was so slim, and Merlin might as well have been dreaming. He sighed, faltered when he felt the ground move, turned to look behind him.

Gwaine. Gwaine and Lancelot, staring at him with wide eyes, and Merlin realised how this had to look. Ah, he hadn't meant for it to get this far, didn’t want them to see him like this.

Gwaine was speaking. Moving towards him, hands stretched out like he was a scared creature. He could almost imagine the way Gwaine was speaking, the concerned tone that he adopted whenever Merlin put himself in harm’s way. He wanted to speak, to say Gwaine’s name, to say anything.

Then he felt it. His Magic, perking up, bubbling up in curiosity. Saw the clouds start to form, protecting the secret, and the tightening band around his chest began to loosen. Arthur was out on the ramparts now, Morgana too, Gwen right behind them. Each looking at Merlin like he was mad, like he was about to do something that he regretted.

He wasn’t. Merlin was about to do the only thing he could, the thing that would make him worthy of being back by their side.

The sky rumbled, he could feel it, the hairs on his neck standing up and the breeze shifting, could imagine the sound of thunder. How he’d known, how his Magic had done such a thing, Merlin had no idea.

Gwaine was close now, and Merlin smiled, really smiled. He loved the Knight, loved all of them, and they’d be just fine while he was gone. The Warlock took a deep breath, focused everything he had on that one smile, before he let himself tip.

The air rushed around him, blurred past his eyes as he tumbled from the Castle, and he heard the screeching sound.

Heard it, rattling around in his head as the Dragon dived, bright eyes on Merlin’s as he raced towards the ground. Merlin wasn’t even sure if he wanted to be caught, but he saw it happening, claws that gripped into his skin like he was a ragdoll, sinking beneath flesh.

Luckily, Merlin fell unconscious just as Aithusa’s wings spread.


	3. Finding Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's going to heal the physical scars

When he woke, the sun was hot against his skin. If he stayed like this for long, the sun would surely burn his skin, and he was tempted to see if his Magic would heal such a thing. Until a wet nose nudged at his thigh, and he saw Aithusa’s concerned gaze on him. Merlin struggled to sit up, realised they were in the clearing near Camelot. Of course, Aithusa could not carry him for long. Why was it so hot?

He must have been unconscious through the night. He thanked the Dragon with a smile, wondering why this location had been chosen.

‘Young Warlock.’ He spun, found Kilgharrah at the other end of the clearing, and Merlin beamed. The voice inside his head had been crystal clear, and it was nice to be able to speak, even if it was through his Magic.

‘Kilgharrah. Goddess, I’m glad to hear someone.’ He pushed the words back, while scratching behind Aithusa’s ear, the Dragon rumbling deep in his chest as he helped Merlin stand.

‘I think it time that you healed yourself, Merlin.’ The Dragon was staring at him with that expression, the fond one that he was still confused about, and the Warlock paused.

‘Heal myself?’

‘You think you cannot? You are Magic itself, you need only ask the Earth.’ He tried to understand what Kilgharrah was saying, but the Dragon was already taking to the skies, and Merlin was left with just him and his hatchling.

Heal himself? Connect to the earth, that’s what Kilgharrah had said, and Merlin was glad he wasn’t wearing shoes. He dug his toes into the earth, looked to Aithusa, who was seemingly just as confused as he felt. The Dragon stretched his wings, a tail that hit the ground and watched Merlin as he let his Magic sink into the ground.

Morgana’s Magic was getting closer, they must have found him, he could hear hooves clattering through the forest. Merlin ignored them, for now, he had no purpose in Camelot if he couldn’t heal himself.

Aithusa made a new sound, one that sounded like he was ready to breathe fire, and Merlin leant against his Hatchling.

His Magic began to listen, finally, and Merlin tipped his head back. The sun was so warm, it tingled across his skin, it had been so long since he’d felt it. Being trapped, being in a cell, it had been awful. And Morgause, she had been killed by…

By Tree’s blade. The man who tortured him, who was just a human. And the blade was a mortal blade, made by man, which meant…

His Magic was responding to him now, flooding into the ground like a river, and he was surprised when it began to rush back towards him. First at his ankles, like a fire in itself, hotter than the sun could ever be. Aithusa made a sound, that told him he might genuinely be on fire, or perhaps it was just Magic.

It began to ache, where his fingers were missing, along his sides where each bruise told him he was still vulnerable. His head, oh his mouth burnt like fire, and he gasped, let his head tilt back. Someone was shouting his name, screaming for him, and it sounded awfully like Gwaine.

But he was okay, this was fine. It felt better, the more he called on the ground, the more he asked for power. When he opened his eyes, he could see nothing at all, nothing but sunlight. It faded, the Dragon around his ankles pressing up against him, stabilising him as he blinked away the dancing vision.

He was glowing slightly. His skin, far too bright still, surrounded by Magic. He glanced at his left hand, rose it up and stared at his five fingers, wiggled each one. Someone had screamed his name, and Merlin had heard it.

The last thing, to focus on the group of baffled people on the edge of the clearing, and Merlin focused. Concentrated, shaped the word that he wanted to say.

‘Gwaine.’ And it worked. Merlin laughed, laughed because he could speak again, because he could keep Arthur safe and didn’t have to leave Camelot, didn’t have to worry about bothering them. The Knight was staring right back at him, and Merlin might have been crying again, but these were happy tears. Goddess, he wanted nothing more than somebody to hold him right now, for anything.

‘Gwaine.’ Louder, stable, and the Knight came running.

Merlin got his hug.

**

Gwaine didn’t say anything as Merlin flinched back from Arthur’s touch, the King brushing it off like it hadn't happened. For that, Gwaine was thankful, Merlin had a habit of wanting to keep Arthur happy. They were in the room of the Round Table, and Merlin was back in his normal spot, by Arthur’s side.

‘You called us to meet?’ Arthur asked his manservant, who nodded quickly, smile back on his face. Bright, entirely fake, and Gwaine wanted Merlin to realise that he was allowed to be hurt. That being tortured for over a month was okay, that they didn’t expect him to be fine. His Magic, and God it had been incredible to see, may have healed him, but his mind would take time.

Plus, there was still that unspoken thing, that they knew, but Merlin did not know that they knew. Gwaine’s anger grew even thinking about it, and he had to stop himself before his temper bubbled over. Instead, he turned back to Merlin, tried not to let his fury drive him.

‘Morgause isn’t dead.’ Merlin stated, smiling as he said it, and if that wasn’t the definition of Merlin, then he didn’t know what was. Arthur fell still, Morgana’s mouth dropped open and a gasp sounded across the room.

‘I saw a blade run through her.’ Arthur remarked, and Merlin nodded.

‘But she isn’t mortal like you. Her Magic could heal her, or she could be brought back. You’d need to kill her with Excalibur,’ Merlin gestured to Arthur’s sword, ‘To make sure she was properly dead.’ Seeing the startled looks of those around him, Merlin continued,

‘Even if you were killed with a normal blade, a highly-skilled sorcerer could heal you, or potentially even try and bring you back.’ Great, now the dead weren’t staying dead. Just brilliant.

‘How many highly-skilled sorcerers are we talking?’ Arthur asked, while Merlin frowned.

‘Nimueh was one. Morgause. Lady Morgana, once she finishes her training. They’re all Witches, born with the gift, rather than trained into it.’

‘And like you, a Warlock.’ Morgana pointed out, and the man gave a nod in agreement. Arthur blinked, looked between them, and then focused back on the task at hand.

‘So someone could bring her back.’

‘If her Magic hasn’t done so already.’

‘But you all could be killed by my sword?’ Merlin halted, and Gwaine saw something flash across his face, something that looked a little bit like sadness. He made a note to question it.

‘She cannot heal a wound made by Excalibur.’ Merlin confirmed, and Arthur seemed pleased by the answer. Gwaine, however, was still focused on the fact that Merlin had avoided answering the actual question.


	4. Plan?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Say hi to Morgause, who makes an appearance this chap

Morgause was resting against the tree, staring at the people that had saved her. The sorceress was a young girl, she had potential, but evidently would need training if she was to help Morgause in her efforts to get to Arthur. There were some Druids, which had told her a very interesting thing. That Merlin, the sorcerer that she had been torturing, was indeed Emrys. That, without Merlin on the playing field, Arthur would be vulnerable.

‘What does Merlin have, that we can use to lure him?’ She had asked aloud, a hand on the wound that had healed. She’d been betrayed by her torturer, Merlin had inspired loyalty in someone that was supposed to be on her side. It was why the young Sorceress, Kara, was a good idea. Younger people, especially a teen like Kara, would be easier to convince. The Druids, however, might turn against her as soon as they saw Merlin.

‘A family. In a rural village, I believe.’ The Druid stated, and Morgause grinned. A perfect trap, to lure Merlin from safety. As for a new torturer…

Kara could be trained. She’d do brilliantly, with a little help.

**

Kara swung the blade, fire racing down the sword as she blocked Morgause’s blow, parried left and then struck out, the hit landing and knocking the wind from her. Morgause feinted to the right, managed to avoid the blade and brought her own up, hitting at the joint of the armour, and the girl crumpled.

‘Ow.’ She complained, Morgause chuckling and offering out a hand.

‘You’re doing alright. With a little more work, you could hold your own.’ That was the plan, anyway. Kara’s Magic was doing well, was remarkably strong, might even make a good enough replacement to the sister that Morgause had hoped would follow her. She didn’t need Morgana, she could manage without her. The plan was still the same, get Merlin alone, and kill him. Maybe torture, she had a few new spells to try out, but one thing was for sure.

Removing Merlin from the board, it would leave Arthur vulnerable.

**

Merlin knew they were watching him, expecting him to break. He didn’t want to, breaking seemed like a bad thing to do at the moment. The last thing he wanted to do was give them another reason to kick him from the group, he had to be strong for them. He was their protector, not the other way around.

His Magic was back, he could speak, he didn’t have to acknowledge what had happened down in that cell. Not even when somebody reached for him, and he flinched. They pretended that he didn’t react, and Merlin wasn’t going to say anything.

Gwaine was acting nice. Too nice, and every time he did, Merlin would feel the guilt eat him up inside. Would remember everything that had happened with him and Tree and Morgause, would know he wasn’t worthy of the attention.

‘You alright?’ Merlin jumped, saw Gwaine wince at the reaction. He forced a smile to his face, watched as Gwaine took a seat beside him.

‘Look, Merlin…’ Oh, this was it, the moment they told him that they didn’t want him around anymore. Merlin took a deep breath, readied himself for the rejection, was surprised when a hand settled on his thigh.

‘We wanted to talk to you. We thought… we needed you to know we’re here for you.’ What? He froze, Gwaine smiling at him. Why were they… they didn’t want him gone?

‘Here for me?’

‘If there’s something that happened, something you think you should be ashamed of, which you shouldn’t.’ His heart cracked, the moment he figured out that Gaius had betrayed him. That he’d told the King what he suspected had happened, and Merlin felt vulnerable. Exposed, open, and he didn’t want to do this. Couldn’t do this, not with Gwaine, and he needed to get out.

‘Merlin, hey, it’s okay…’ Gwaine looked so angry, his eyes were burning with fury, and Merlin didn’t know if he could do this. His chest was heaving, Gwaine’s hand hovering.

‘Can I comfort you?’ He was asking, when everything Merlin had belonged to them anyway. When he wasn’t anything without the Knights of Camelot. He nodded, tears blurring his vision, and arms wrapped around him.

He clutched at Gwaine, held on to him like it would save him from having this discussion.

‘Nothing’s going to touch you again. I won’t let it.’ Funny, Merlin could have sworn it sounded like a promise.

**

‘Can I help you?’ The woman had a kind smile, even if she looked slightly tired. For a single woman, she had a home that was well-provided, figured that she must be getting money from her son. Morgause, wrapped in her shawl, looked up and tried to put on her best lost expression, a tinge of sadness.

‘I am so sorry for disturbing you, Miss, but I don’t have anywhere else to go. Could I… stay the night? I’ll work for it, I don’t take no’ caring for.’ The woman’s compassion turned to be her downfall, stepping aside and gesturing for her to come in.

Shame, she seemed nice. Stacked up the fire and showed Morgause where she could sleep for the evening, gestured to the pile of blankets that would provide her with warmth for the night. Got a bowl of soup, and handed it across. Morgause thanked her, tucking in on herself as she sat back down in front of the fire.

‘It’s no trouble, my dear.’ A bright, motherly smile.

‘Do you live here alone?’ Morgause questioned. She had checked her sources thoroughly, but just needed to make sure there was nobody going to miss her that much, when Morgause snatched the woman from her home.

‘Oh yes, I have a son, but he’s away working.’ Poor woman, Morgause pitied her, she didn’t actually want to kidnap some old lady from her home. But she had to draw Merlin out, and this was the best way.

‘I see. Must be… hard?’ Hunith, the naïve, sweet woman, had no idea the danger she was in. Had welcomed her in, while in the forest, Kara was waiting with the cart that would transport them back to their trap.

‘It is, my dear, but a Mother knows what’s best for her son.’ Ironic, really.

**

Merlin was sitting with Gwen, the two of them attempting to make the flower crown, when Gaius came pottering across. The Knights were training, and Merlin was supposed to be watching them, but he had been distracted by Gwen’s nifty fingers and the fact that she was threatening to put it on his head to measure it.

‘Oh, Merlin my boy, a letter arrived for you.’ His Uncle offered it out, and Merlin grinned when he recognised his Mother’s hand, thanked Gaius and undid the note.

‘Almost finished.’ Gwen stated, adding another flower and twisting the stem, while Merlin read over the note.

His hands did not tremble. He would not let them, kept his breathing in check as he read the letter twice, then tucked it into his jacket. Everything was alright, he just needed to excuse himself from this moment.

‘I’ll catch you later, yeah?’ Gwen startled, smiled up with a look of worry.

‘Everything okay?’

‘Yeah, just want to write a reply.’ She nodded understandingly, and Merlin hurried from the field.

_If you tell anyone, I’ll kill her before you get close. Come alone._


	5. Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All it takes is a little faith

‘You want me, not her.’ Merlin pointed out, like he had already admitted defeat. Morgause watched him, the boy that was supposed to be so powerful, and wondered if he even realised what he was doing. Why not fight? Why let himself be caught, be dragged in and brought to his knees, with Kara holding a blade to his neck? Morgause looked at him, pitied him. He had no faith in himself, and it would be his downfall. And her luck, she thought, nodding to Kara.

‘The spell, my dear.’ She watched as her apprentice begun the chant, as the Old Religion struck down on her child, on the boy that crumpled to the ground as easily as taking down a child. Merlin’s body seized, rocking into the ground and arching up in pain, while Kara’s smirk grew. Morgause didn’t take pleasure in his pain, didn’t want to see him brought this low.

That was what made her High Priestess, and Kara just a sorceress. Once Merlin was on the floor, close to unconsciousness, Morgause turned to look at her apprentice.

‘Take Hunith back to the village. Make sure she gets there unhurt.’ She didn’t look to the woman who was sobbing, a rag in her mouth, tied to the nearest tree. Morgause had treated her with nothing but respect, making sure to tie the binds with fabric between them and her skin, so it didn’t rub. The woman was not at fault, could not have predicted what would happen to her boy.

‘Unhurt? She could tell someone.’ Kara’s malice was getting out of hands quickly, Morgause thought, watching as the Sorceress pressed her boot into the small of Merlin’s back. The Warlock grunted, and Morgause fought the urge to tell the girl off.

‘Unhurt.’ She confirmed, moving across to Merlin and wondering how he had healed such extensive injuries. His Magic had provided for him, had healed the wounds she’d inflicted, yet now it did nothing. How did it work?

With that, Morgause rose and walked away from the clearing. She had a Prince to lure from his Kingdom, and a sister to consider whether or not to kill.

**

Kara stared, confused, at the woman she was supposed to take back to the Village. Emrys had a collar around his neck, like he should, to stop his Magic from being dangerous to her. So why was the woman needed? Killing her made the most sense, driving a blade through her and leaving her to die.

‘I wouldn’t do that.’ Emrys remarked, staring up at her with those wide eyes and pained expression. She stamped down on his arm, mostly to keep him silent, but it didn’t work. From somewhere behind her, she heard a branch crack.

Turned, to find a sword pointed at her chest. A red cape, dark hair, a very angry looking Knight.

‘You really think I’d come alone?’ Emrys whispered, and Kara snarled, rose her hand ready to fire a spell. A hand reached out, gripped her ankle and knocked her balance, and she gasped as she fell.

**

Gwaine went straight to Merlin, helping him up and staring at the awful collar, which he could get rid of with the keys they’d snatched the moment Arthur had driven a blade through the girl’s chest. When the Warlock had admitted to the letter he’d received, to the fact that his Mother had been captured, Gwaine had hated the fact that they were going to use him as bait.

Now, he looked Merlin over, focused on the weary smile and the dirt staining his tunic. Listening to Merlin scream had been awful, watching him writhe in the dirt and knowing they had to wait… It had been the most painful thing he’d ever experienced. Beside him, Arthur had looked pale, grimaced as his hand gripped Excalibur.

‘You’re safe.’ Gwaine stated, ran a hand through Merlin’s hair and tried not to smile when the Warlock tilted into the touch.

‘Hunith.’ Gwaine watched as Arthur rushed across, leaving his sword in the Sorceress as he reached for the bindings. He’d never met the woman, but she seemed fond of Arthur, patting his shoulder and smiling up at him, before rushing across.

‘Oh my boy!’ Gwaine moved back, watched as the Mother embraced the Warlock, as Merlin hugged her back just as tightly.

‘Sire, no signs of Morgause.’ Leon stated from a little distance away, Arthur looking at the two hugging, before moving to his Knight.

‘Merlin, we’ll give you a moment. I can trust you to keep watch?’ Gwaine nodded to the Princess, then turned back to the two of them. Halted, because Hunith was staring at Merlin, who was staring up at him.

‘Oh, sorry, I’ll…’

‘Gwaine, this is my Mum. Awkward circumstances but…’ Gwaine wasn’t worried, turned on the charm and smiled to the woman, offering out his hand.

**

Watching Gwaine flirt with his Mum was funny, but Merlin took the time to recuperate his Magic. The spell had taken the energy from him, he might even need Morgana’s assistance to recover fully. He attempted to stand, considering Gwaine and his Mum had already moved away, winced as his head complained. His legs wobbled slightly, worried that they might give out from under him.

An arm wrapped around his waist, smoothly, and Merlin realised he hadn't flinched at the touch. Gwaine was studying him, concerned, looking for injuries that didn’t exist.

‘I’m good, just… the spell took a little out of me.’ Gwaine’s frown grew, but he took a step back, much to Merlin’s regret.

‘We should get back to the Princess. Get your Mum back safe, and hunt down Morgause.’ As if his sentence was summoning danger, a shout rang out through the trees, presumably because someone had spotted Morgause.

Arthur. His Prince was somewhere in the trees, with the only weapon that could kill Morgause. He looked to Gwaine, then to his Mother, and the Knight nodded.

‘With my life.’ He promised, and Merlin smiled to him. He went for the trees, halted when Gwaine spoke up again.

‘Come back, Merlin.’

‘I will.’

**

Arthur gasped for breath, his neck sore, like a hand was tightening around it, yet there was nothing. Nothing more than the golden gaze of Morgause, her raging emotions and the fact that his Knights had been thrown through the air.

‘Enough, Morgause!’ Merlin, ever the idiot, had reappeared. The pressure around his windpipe relaxed, and he looked across to where Excalibur lay. He just needed a distraction, one big enough to reach for the sword and lunge.

‘You’re like an annoying child. You just keep coming back.’ She snarled, and Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, just in time to deflect the blow she sent hurling in his direction.

Then it began. A fight of words and spells, Arthur crawling across the ground and reaching for his sword, wrapping around the handle and looking back.

He’d never seen Merlin fight with Magic. It was terrifying, yet strangely comforting, to know that his manservant hadn't just survived because of luck. That he also had the ability to protect himself.

Arthur managed to stand, despite the air crackling and fire being hurled through the trees, gave one last nod to Merlin, who spouted words that Arthur had never heard.

The sword moved cleanly, and whatever Morgause had been about to say, it never happened. She gasped, hands clutching at her stomach, but this time, the wound would not heal. Merlin said something in that language, and Arthur drew back the blade.

‘You didn’t survive on luck, then.’ Arthur drawled, watched Morgause fall, and stared to Merlin. His manservant looked exhausted, a little charred at the edges, but otherwise unhurt. Amused, almost, in the way he rolled is eyes.

‘Nor did you, prat.’ Glad to know somethings hadn't changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bam :)


End file.
